Once Upon Middle Ages
by Writer Mione
Summary: Poland and his pony - still a better love story than Twilight. The idea here is to see how it started.


Another beautiful and bright day in the lowlands and hills and steppes and other geographical formations of Eastern Europe. We're in the Middle Ages, and thus you could hear no unpleasant sound of factories in the boundaries, and there wasn't even a lot of people in the fields. The tired or joyful sighs of the Polish-Lithuanian peasants were accompanied by trilling birds, buzzing bees, and all sorts of natural noises of the cute fairy tales.

In a clearing in the middle of a forest, deep in a valley between two hills (phew!), an old State Minister and some experienced warriors ran the training of two small ... countries. A brunette and a blonde. Lithuania and Poland. And the blonde was giving too much trouble.

Training with the bow, he insisted on throwing the arrows up. No, there was nothing above them, and by a miracle of gravity the arrow would rise – vuuuush! – and turn right to his forehead. And he screamed and screamed and raged. And if they advised him to stop shooting like that, Poland would say that some countries used birds of war and he had to learn to defend himself against these also. The coaches sighed. How they wanted him to be as nice and disciplined as his brother of _Commonwealth_, Lithuania.

In the sword fight, he was good. Surprisingly, despite his small size, he had strength and toughness. But alas, if a butterfly passed by at the wrong time ... Two strokes and he would be knocked out. He also ran this hazard in easy victories; success would ascend to his head, the nose, fly to the moon, and a blow in the chin would remove him from combat. Of course, the opponent will have to bend down to strike the blow, but in a battle anyone would submit to it without shame.

As the afternoon wore on, and the coaches knew what would follow, they were getting more and more anxious. Sweating, looking at each other, around three p.m. one of them had retired to a corner and started to cry softly. Soon they would bring the horses to the riding class and, oh... if they were having trouble with Mr. Poland until then, it was nothing compared to that.

Soon, two sorrels came trotting happily into training's clearing, driven by an attendant who made little effort to hide his laughter.

The pretty face of Poland twitched and shadowed when he saw the animals approach. He crossed his arms and glared at them while Lithuania happily stepped forward to his horse. They had to bring Poland's horse to him and practically rub it in the face of the boy, so he caught the reins, very grudgingly. Lithuania mounted quickly and glanced apprehensively at his pal, waiting for him.

With a sigh of resignation, Poland grabbed the reins and tried to put his foot in the stirrup. He needed to stretch his leg horizontally, like a ballet dancer. But in this bizarre position, with arms outstretched to continue holding the reins, he had not the strength to give impetus and mount on the horse. He gritted his teeth and tried again, with the only result of squashing on the floor. The squires of the coaches began to hide behind the trees around because they had lost the ability to contain the laughter.

Trying to ignore all these movements, Poland rose with stately air, shook the dust of his rich medieval robes, and walked again to the so-named sorrel. After another result "fall" – and, incidentally, one of ugliest falls he had ever suffered that year – his face dyed red, and he waved to Lithuania go without him, for his friend was biting the lips, torn between compassion and the comicality of the situation. The dark-haired boy trotted away elegantly, followed by a look of admiration and envy from the other guy.

"Just one more time", Poland thought to himself, and running to the horse in the intention of taking advantage of the surprise element, he jumped suddenly to the stirrup, ignoring the reins for they were bad business, and grabbing the horsehair. With all the violence provided by his strained nerves.

– He-he-he-he-heeeeeeeeeeeeelp! – the blond little guy shouted, bumping his head against all the elevations of the terrain, while being dragged at high speed, trying to set free the foot attached to the horse. It wasn't the first time that a thing like this happened; that's why the coaches had chosen a clearing for the trainings, for the sake of their country's sanity.

After they dominated the animal, i.e., the horse, they looked around only to realize that Poland had disappeared. Well, not properly disappeared still; you could see a speck of clothes billowing in the distance, but the coaches held Lithuania when he set out to go after his friend. Especially because he wanted to go riding! Anyway, it was better to let the small boy spend some time alone.

* * *

In the garden of the castle, not very far from there… well, quite far indeed, but the blond boy got there quickly because he was a country. So, in the garden of the country, the queen Jadwiga, who was walking among the red cornflowers, heard sort of a gaudy sob. Which, incidentally, she knew very well. Pulling away some bushes with her monarchic grace, she found Poland huddled in the shade of a plat shaking his head and making the tears jump from his cute little green eyes topped with sharp eyebrows.

She waited for a moment, but as he gave no sign of having noticed her presence, the queen bent down next to the boy.

– What happened, my little _pączek_? – she whispered, motherly, caressing his hair.

- Ajgashgozcousjajoukalgah – he howled, not lifting his head.

– What? – asked Jadwiga, confused.

– Ajgashgozcousjajoukalgah! – Poland repeated, impatiently.

– Now, talk like a person! It's not as if your name was Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz! – the woman scolded. – I can't understand a single word!

– I said I can't ride – the boy sniffed, finally raising his head, with a gloomy look.

– Oh, my darling... – the queen whispered, hugging him.

– And Lithuania, like, rides so well! Why do you totally make a alliance with someone that, like, makes me feel ashamed? – he rebuked.

– I'm sure you're not that bad – Jadwiga conciliated, quickly. The last thing she wanted was to see her country disapproving the _Commonwealth._ – After all, you're Poland, Polish people do everything better than everybody in the world – she said, proud.

– Yeah, but, this time, like, it won't happen – the blond boy murmured, dismayed. – I cannot even mount those smelly animals.

– Why not? What's the problem?

Poland's color passed from white to red to purple, and then he exploded:

– 'Cause I'm too short!

Jadwiga looked at him, puzzled for a while. So, over her aristocratic head one tiny bulb of idea hovered, completely ignoring the fact that electricity would only be invented after some centuries.

– Wait just a moment, Felek, I think I we can fix it…

* * *

Despite Lithuania's pangs of conscience for leaving his friend behind, the training continued in greatest of the lulls without him. Not much time had passed because, see, the palace was away, but in a country's step any distance is a joke. Then you can count half an hour on this, maybe a little more.

Therefore, Lithuania was still practicing the ride. And the jousting. After all, a knight is not complete if he can't show off in a tournament in the best style of a medieval movie. He was trying to be gentle when casting down the humans who had taken the place of Poland as his opponent, when the noise of dozens of trumpets startled the birds and put an end to the lull of the clearing. Everybody turned around to face the buglers atop the nearest hill. After, they walked away a little bit to make room for the boys with the drums. Finally these also moved away, opening a gap in the middle of them against the setting sun, which was dyeing the sky multicolored, to give us the best end-of-story effect.

And in the middle of the gap, Poland. And under Poland – guess what! – a pony. That came bounding in the most graceful manner downhill.

– Lithuaniaaaaaa! Hahahaahah! I know how to ri-ide! HAHAHAAHAH!

Toris didn't know if he should smile for the happiness of his friend, or if he could continue showing his shock before that jumpy and slinky creature, more adorned than a sheik's litter. Seriously, it was amazing that the pony would not sag under the weight of the three hundred rattles and bells that the country had hung in him. The _pokerfaces_ were the rule among the others. And the worst of all… is that Poland and the pony matched perfectly.

Poland trotted toward his friend, surpassed him and pulled the bridles of his dwarf-horse, which reared and mimicked a whinny.

– Ladies will love me! AHAHAHAHAHAHH!

**THE END**

(Because a bit more and it would become a Disney movie)

* * *

**Final notes:**

*Paçzek (Pączki) - it's a Polish sweet cake.

**Jadwiga was the Queen that married the Lithuanian Grand Duke to form the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

***Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz exists, believe if you want, search it in Youtube.

****Felek - Polish nickname for Feliks.

Did you like it? Comment, favorite it, advice to your friends! And you are, from now, invited to read my other fanfics. Hugs!


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